No Compromise
by magicalunicorndust
Summary: Anders embarks on a dangerous path, merging with Justice and risking life and limb to save his friend Karl. Once in Kirkwall, he meets Matilda Hawke and her cohort, learning that there can be no peace, no justice and no compromise.
1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at anything even remotely fan-fiction related, so if you like this short introduction, I'll keep it going. If I do continue this, Anders will be the focus of the plot. I hope you like it, even if it is short. :)

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><p><em>The Beginning of The End<em>

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><p>"So, heading to Kirkwall are you?"<p>

Anders woke from his daydream and his thoughts of the past few months. The sea swirled and gushed in green, angry waves before him from the coast of Highever, and the voice that had brought him back to reality suddenly seemed more familiar.

"...Is- Isabela?"

Anders turned and saw a busty, tan-skinned woman approaching him from the edge of the docks. Her black hair was tied into a patterned blue headscarf and the gold hanging from her ears and neck was not ignorable. She wore... _less_ than when he had seen her in Denerim at The Pearl; a brief meeting that saw them share drinks at the Gnawed Noble not too long ago.

"No place for an apostate in Ferelden then?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Well... I'm actually a Grey Warden now. I've just..." Anders tentatively admitted. Isabela smirked at him, her gold piercing under her lips shimmering in the sunlight. Isabela knew a fugitive when she saw one.

"You're running away, aren't you? Somebody's feeling rebellious!" Isabela laughed and winked. She swaggered past him to board her ship, The Siren's Call, and turned to call to Anders from the railing.

"You know, you could always catch a lift to Kirkwall with me, Anders! We're leaving soon, but think about it!"

Anders was taken aback. He half-smiled half-chuckled and decided not to answer her yet. He watched her disappear and give orders to her crew, bustling about to make sure her every desire was met. Sure, being on The Siren's Call would be better than the dirty ship he'd managed to get himself on, but he'd eventually have to explain to Isabela why he was no longer a Grey Warden and the thought simply killed him inside. He stared again into the ocean's waves that glistened in the afternoon's sunlight. He stared at the sea's horizon, knowing Kirkwall lay beyond. There were templars in Kirkwall, but it might only be temporary. He pondered the prospect of a peaceful, quiet life. All he wanted was a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools. The Tevinter Imperium's haven for mages had crossed his mind, but never before had it been so strong when faced with the Waking Sea. In Kirkwall, he'd be just Anders, not Anders the Grey Warden or Anders the apostate. Besides that, nobody could know what he really was. Nobody could know what he had done.

Since leaving the Circle of Magi for the seventh time, it seemed that Anders' life had taken a much more dramatic turn. With every mage and templar in the tower panicking about the Blight, Jowan's blood magic escape and Uldred's scheming, few mages realised he was gone until it was too late. He had run to West Hill and had trekked with simple merchants at the first opportunity, across the Coastlands to Amaranthine in the east. In Amaranthine he was caught by that damn Rylock, a templar whose tough nature almost ensured he was caught _again_; he would've been if not for the Warden-Commander. She had taken him in and made him a Grey Warden, going toe to toe with Rylock and the other templars to save him. What had she seen in him? He was a dirty apostate in the eyes of the Chantry and the Warden-Commander was the queen of Ferelden! She had convinced King Alistair to allow the Right of Conscription and it was she who... who had caused him to meet Justice.

Justice was a friend Anders now knew all too well. Justice and he never quite saw eye to eye in Amaranthine but now... The world felt like a different place. It felt familiar but new; beautiful but agonising. Anders knew why the Wardens at Vigil's Keep were suspicious of him. He knew they had reason to, him being a notorious apostate, after all. But recently, suspicions had turned to an increasing undercurrent of tension. Kristoff's body lay mangled as a fleshy sack of bones on the wooden floor of his quarters and Anders was under the close and concerned watch of senior Wardens who continued to arrive at the Keep. The mages of the Wardens had their fears but only Anders really knew the truth. He knew what he had become.

Anders moved his chestnut brown eyes from the sea and approached The Siren's Call. There was no turning back now.


	2. The Abomination

**Author's Note: **I used some of the content from Jennifer Hepler's short story about Anders to keep consistency with canon material of the game. You can find the link in the trivia section of the Dragon Age Wiki article about Anders. I have used a couple of direct quotes from characters but I haven't directly copied any paragraphs, I just wanted to retell the events so they fit in my story. No plagiarism or copyright infringement is intended whatsoever and I do not intend to make any monetary profit from my story. Thanks for reading, guys.

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><p><em>The Abomination<em>

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><p>Anders looked around him at the forest. The leaves of the trees glistened under a bright sunlight, although most of the sky was overcast. It seemed that the sky was always cloudy since the end of the Blight. Anders tidied his tent and the few belongings he had brought, should he need to escape any templars that might be looking for him. The Wending Wood might not have been the best choice for a place to hide, but it would have to do. Anders knew he was leaving the Wardens days earlier and had run to the woods at the first opportunity. He knew what he was about to do.<p>

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><p>It had been a week ago, one week that had changed his mindset. He had been sitting at the old wooden dining table in Vigil's Keep. The Warden-Commander had just left with Oghren to see how Amaranthine was faring and report back to the King in Denerim of how she managed to save both the Keep and the city. No doubt she missed her husband, Anders guessed. He always wondered how she did it, the Commander, putting her duty before her love for Alistair. He swore he'd heard her crying one night. Well, she'd lost her parents to Arl Howe, whose son Nathaniel was only just understanding why she had killed him. Still, revenge would not bring back her family.<p>

Anders was reading a story given to him by Oghren, "The Tavern of Wenches", most probably penned by Oghren himself. It told of the busty maidens of Tapster's Tavern lusting over a burly and masculine warrior who was called to defend the land against the Blight. The warrior had a plaited beard which shone like rubies... Anders was _sure_ Oghren had written it, now. He chuckled to himself as Justice walked into the room solemnly, deep in thought. Both were left without a strong purpose since the Mother and the Architect were slain.

"Good afternoon, Anders." Justice took the seat across from Anders and brought out a locket. He thumbed it with a sad expression, almost one of regret.

"Oh, hello Justice. Can I ask what that is?" Anders replied uncertain of what Justice's response would be.

"Oh... It is a locket that the Warden-Commander found. It belonged to Kristoff."

Justice silently passed the locket to Anders across the table. Anders examined it closely. The gold chain was thicker than most, sturdy, designed for a warrior. Upon opening the locket, Anders found a small portrait of an attractive blonde woman and a lock of blonde hair. He shut it and turned it over in his hands. An engraving on the back read: "Yours always, Aura."

"Ah, this is... _was_ his wife then?" Anders asked.

"Yes. She has requested that I leave Kristoff's body so that she may have his remains to bury. Although at this present time, that seems impossible unless I find another host. While this world does have unimaginable beauty, it is not my own. By experiencing the joys of the mortal realm, I take that which is most cherished from another. I, a spirit of Justice, give injustice and grief to the innocent. It is a dire situation," Justice replied in his usual restrained tone. However, there was a hint of sadness that revealed great anguish within him.

"Well it isn't exactly your fault, you know."

"Whatever do you mean, Anders?"

"You didn't ask to be thrown out of the Fade. You didn't ask to inhabit Kristoff's body. It just... happened, I suppose," Anders explained, "Like me. I'm a mage. I didn't ask to be a mage, but I am. Yes, people may fear the big, bad mage who might turn all the civilians into toads or something, but it is their choice to feel that way. They can accept who I am or they can be fearful. Well, I guess in your case it's a little different-"

"Of course it is different! I inhabit her husband's remains!" Justice yelled.

Anders was taken aback as to how much guilt Justice seemed to feel. "I didn't mean to upset you, Justice," Anders calmly responded, "I was only trying to give you some perspective. My point is, you didn't do this deliberately."

Justice seemed to calm down. Anders handed back the locket, and Justice placed it in a small felt pouch. The two sat in silence before a puzzled look befell Justice's expression.

"People fear mages even though they are trained not to be dangerous to the people? People fear you even though you cannot help what you are?" Justice asked inquisitively.

Anders looked up almost shocked. He was interested in mages. He was _actually_ interested. Anders went on the explain the life of mages, being in the Circle, never having your own family and being hunted and stereotyped as a blood mage. He told Justice of his seven escapes and how, using his phylactery, the templars caught him every time. This time he wouldn't be going back, as he was a Grey Warden now. But as Anders told Justice more, Justice became angry.

"And the mages _suffer_ like this and your king does nothing?"

"Well," Anders began, "There _are_ dangerous mages out there, I suppose. I just don't like being forced into such a restrained life just because of my magic. Magic is a gift of the Maker, not the curse it has become. I believe mages should be taught to control and use their magic but still be able to be free of the templars. Why can't you teach a mage to use his magic well and still send him home to his family? Yes, there probably _should_ be templars, but I hate that tower. I'm never going back. Never."

Justice leant back in his chair and placed his hand to his chin. He thought for a few moments.

Finally, he met eyes with Anders and said, "We must discuss this more. I have a plan."

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><p>Anders sat by his small camp in the Wending Wood, waiting for Justice to arrive. In the past week, they had devised a way to carry out Justice's plan. Anders had run away from the Wardens three days ago. He remembered what Justice had said:<p>

"We need to stop the unfair life that the mages suffer. However, I do not think we can do this properly as Grey Wardens. The Warden-Commander may not understand and we do not want to implicate her in this. She saved us, Anders. She has enough hypocrisy and politics to deal with without the burden of our plans."

Anders heard footsteps. There before him was the body Kristoff, making his way through the trees and scrub. Justice was within.

"Anders. It is time. You have shown me an injustice greater than any I have faced. Do you have the courage to accept my aid?"

Anders nodded solemnly. It was time to end the Circles of Thedas. It was time to start a revolution.

"Open your mind to me, Anders. We will soon be one," Justice said calmly.

Anders tried to do as Justice had requested and he soon felt it. A burning within him. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He looked down to his hands, covered in blue cracks that glowed and shone. He heard yelling, was that him? He heard other voices, too. But just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsided and the world before him began to sway. Anders collapsed on the forest floor and the numbness of relief washed over him.

He woke and his hands were... not covered in bright blue veins, but not familiar either. There was something strange about the way the world felt now. He hazily brought himself to his knees. The sun's light seemed too bright, too focused. For some reason, he thought of the Fade, and how the light seemed to spread out from everything there. Why did the Fade feel familiar? Why did _this world_ feel familiar? Anders pondered his situation as best he could with a blurred mind.

"I am Anders," Anders said quietly, before blurting out, "I am Justice."

Anders covered his mouth in shock and stood. He remembered now what Justice had offered: The power to end the terrible plight of the mages. He remembered what he had done. But where would he go from here? What would he do with Kristoff's body? Should he take it back to Vigil's Keep? They may never find him out here and Aura wanted him buried. Yes, Anders decided. I will be honourable. I will take his body back to the Keep. Anders walked over to Kristoff's slumped body not far away. Justice was within Anders, now, and Kristoff's corpse was definitely devoid of life and spirit.

"He's come to." Anders knew that voice. A Grey Warden?

The voices grew closer, "What in the Maker's name happened to him?" Another voice. He didn't recognise this one.

"He just went crazy. His eyes were glowing... His bloody skin cracked open and it was like he was on fire inside. Just kept raving... something about injustice, a revolution. Thought I was going to have to put the blighter down like a mad dog, then he just collapsed."

"Damn mages."

Anders turned to face the approaching voices. Rolan. Of course it was Rolan, the almost templar who became a Warden. So this was the price he had to pay for being a Warden: He was again under templar scrutiny. Rolan had been sent with Anders everywhere since he arrived. It was too obvious that Rolan was keeping an eye on him.

"The Wardens agreed we can't harbour an abomination," said Rolan smugly. Anders glared furiously at him and the man to his right, who was obviously a templar. It didn't take a genius to spot a templar or see what Rolan's intentions were. Anders wondered if the Warden-Commander knew what was going on. She was still in Denerim, as far as Anders knew. But this was enough: Now was the time to show them why mages were feared. Now was the time to seek... _vengeance? _

Before he could control himself, the fire in Anders' blood raged again. He yelled, "You will never touch another mage again!" as his hand lashed out at the templar and shattered his sword. The shards burned and melted into the templar's body. He screamed in terror. Anders met his horrified eyes as he cast a fire spell, causing flames to burn and swell into the forest and the camp around them. The templar burned before him and Anders couldn't see past the flames. The templar lay charred and most likely dead as the stench of lyrium filled Anders' nose... Anders turned to see that Roland was alive, probably protected by drinking lyrium before the fight. He held an aggressive stance, though dread and fear lay in his green eyes. Roland charged at Anders with his griffon-crested shield and plunged his sword into Anders' flesh. Roland's eyes widened as Anders smirked at him. Anders felt nothing and laughed heartily as the templar ran for his life; the flames had subsided by then. Anders ran faster than he ever had before and somehow tore Roland's head clean off of his neck. Blood spurted everywhere, and Roland's bloodied corpse slumped.

The fire within ended. Anders turned. There were at least six more corpses, all Wardens. Anders tried to identify the bodies, hoping he hadn't killed any of his closer friends. Thankfully, as best he could tell, he knew none of them; perhaps they were recruits? But how could he be thankful? They were still _dead_. He had killed them for doing their duty as ordered, to kill an abomination. Anders quietly gasped; he was an abomination, technically. What had been a peaceful campsite just a moment ago was now a killing ground, the soft earth of the forest bloodied.

Anders looked to check the condition of Kristoff's corpse. It was surprisingly unscathed considering the force of the fire spell that he had used. Anders' belongings at the camp were ruined. He would have to steal more from somewhere just to survive.

From here, Anders was unsure where to go. He decided to return Kristoff's body to Vigil's Keep without being seen and head to... Amaranthine? No, too risky. Too many people knew his face there, they had seen him with the Warden-Commander... Denerim? Yes, Denerim. If there was anywhere to look for opportunity, it was Denerim.

Anders picked up Kristoff's corpse and headed down the path out of the Wending Wood. Anders cast a glance over his shoulder at the charred camp-site. While he had hoped Justice would help him achieve peace and freedom for mages, doubts began to flood Anders' heart. All the proof he needed to show the hopelessness of his struggle lay behind him in flames.


	3. A Warning Sign

**Author's Note (in response to a review): **While it does say Anders decides to go for a walk, I tried to make it seem like he was in his room thinking about going and then gets up to leave. Obviously this did not work, so I have changed it slightly. Thanks for the feedback :D

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><p><em>A Warning Sign<em>

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><p><em>Journal,<em>

_Nothing seems to be going as planned here in Denerim. I can't seem to find work anywhere which could make use of my magic without being under templar scrutiny. I'll never go back to The Circle, but being an apostate for an extended period of time is becoming more difficult. There's nowhere to hide here with everyone recovering from the Blight. The supplies I stole from Vigil's Keep may only last me another month if I'm scrupulous. If I were in Tevinter... Well... I'd probably be a blood mage. Everywhere I go in Ferelden reminds me of Vigil's Keep or what happened in the Wending Wood. I feel more and more that I must leave just to survive._

_It is nearing the autumn, and the few trees that Denerim has look... lovely._

_I miss Ser Pounce-a-lot and I miss Karl. For some reason, I miss Vigil's Keep and arguing with Oghren and Nathaniel, too._

_I will have to leave Ferelden, I can feel it... But where will I go? Is there a place for me anywhere?_

_Anders._

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><p>Anders was tired already, and it was only morning. He'd been in Denerim a month and nothing was going according to his plan which became exhausting. The Wardens would figure out where he was soon enough and he was directly under the Warden-Commander's nose. He hadn't given a lot of thought to the plan to come to Denerim but that didn't matter. He was stuck, regardless of what planning, or lack thereof, he had done.<p>

Anders decided to take a walk in the market, hoping it would clear his head. It seemed like a nice enough morning outside and he'd been cooped up for at least two weeks trying to avoid notice. He was going to get outside of this room even if it killed him. The Gnawed Noble Tavern was also nice enough and was cheap enough for Anders to stay for at least another two weeks. It seemed that the Blight had driven business _away_, surprisingly. The only person willing to stay longer than a night besides himself was a pirate named Isabela, clad in tight leather armour. They usually shared a drink or two if they were both a bit bored of contemplating the future alone. She said she was bored of The Pearl and waiting for her crew to finish with the... _ladies_ there. Anders wondered if he'd see her again tonight. Anyway, it was time for that walk. While the market was not the most serene place, he could still blend in better there than anywhere else. Anders left his room and headed into the main area of the tavern down the passageway.

"Excuse me messere... Anders?"

Anders turned his head, expecting to see a templar or one of Isabela's crewmen. It was only the simple barman, who proceeded to motion Anders over to the counter. A large package sat neatly in front of him.

"This arrived for you today, ser. Oh, and this letter was attached," said the barman in a thick, Ferelden accent. He was polite enough for someone who probably had little education.

Anders was surprised. He hadn't been expecting anything other than letters from Karl, his friend from the Ferelden Circle of Magi. "Thank you, ser," Anders replied politely, and took the package and letter back to the room he was staying in.

Upon picking it up, Anders noticed how heavy it was. It must've taken a great deal of trouble to wrap it and keep everything in place with only twine and brown paper. He wondered who sent it to him and what could possibly be inside? What in the world could be so heavy?

Anders put the package on the small bed and locked the door behind him. He had a feeling whatever was inside was important. He looked at the letter. It was from Karl! The letter read:

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><p><em>My dear friend,<em>

_I know I have not written in a while and for that I apologise. I have only just received all of the letters you sent to me and your situation worries me greatly. Are you all right? I hope you have avoided scrutiny in Denerim. You know the eyes that I speak of. Let us hope they are too distracted by the Blight's end to notice you._

_I must tell you – I am no longer in Ferelden. Before you overestimate the situation, let me explain: I am assisting the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall. First Enchanter Orsino has requested aid controlling suspected blood mages and considering the experience we Fereldens had with Uldred... Well, you can see why he asked our Circle specifically. First Enchanter Irving was glad to see me willing to prevent further atrocities like those that Uldred committed. He was intending to ask Wynne, you may remember her, but she recommended me. I suspect her travels with the Hero of Ferelden made her quite tired indeed!_

_Does the Hero of Ferelden know of your fate? Have you seen her at all since you left?_

_The package with this note contains some garments I had made for you. I thought you'd need some slightly warmer attire considering the autumn is fast approaching. There is no need to thank me or feel obligated to return the favour. _

_If you are safe, send correspondence to Jane in the Gallows. She is a maidservant here at Kirkwall's Circle and she is more than willing to help us stay in contact. Her kindness almost shames me._

_Please, let me know you are safe! Please consider a plan of where you intend to go!_

_Sincerely,_

_Karl._

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><p>He... was in Kirkwall... willingly? In the Gallows? Kirkwall's Circle of Magi was housed in <em>the Gallows?<em>Anders did not know what to think. In Kirkwall, mages were housed as prisoners even more so than any other Circle, so why would Karl willingly run into it? Anders was worried. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation. He had to go to Kirkwall immediately. What if something happened to Karl? Templars could not be trusted. Besides, Anders had so few people left that he cared about. He could not bear to lose another friend to the everyday injustices of Thedas.

Anders sat and contemplated. In his hurried thoughts, Anders had not remembered Karl's gift. Anders slowly unwrapped the twine and brown paper to reveal a pair of long, black boots. Two lines of gold rings adorned the front of each boot to hold the laces, obviously designed to be sturdy whilst travelling. Anders chuckled to himself. Karl knew he would never stop running.

Left in the paper were two pieces of clothing. The first was a long, light brown, sleeveless coat that reached Anders' knees. The fabric was made of panelled squares that reached a cream lining at the front edges. From here, there were dark brown loops attached. Karl had helpfully put the gold rings to join the loops in the inside pocket with a note:

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><p><em>There's a small gap in the rings so you can attach them to the coat, no magic required.<br>_

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><p>Anders smiled to himself. Karl was always looking out for him, even when he was at The Circle. Karl's kindness had really exceeded itself this time. Even though Karl was under the thumbs of Kirkwall's notorious templars, he had probably paid a decent number of sovereigns for this gift.<p>

Anders looked over the second piece of clothing. It was a short teal jacket with feathered shoulders; Karl must have remembered Anders' love of the colour teal and Tevinter style robes. Anders always had a thing for feathers, but he never knew why. While there were buttons to close it, there was also a chain and a triangular piece of cream fabric to hold it open.

Anders removed his outlandish Tevinter robes and folded them neatly on the bed. He adorned the coat and jacker over his plain robe and black fabric pants. As he did so, Anders wondered why he'd never thought to buy new clothes before. His robes certainly didn't help him blend in. What a fool he was.

The two pieces and the boots fit him well and rather suited him. He looked more likely to fit into a crowd now, but still stood out just enough. Without thinking, Anders looked into the mirror on the wall for the first time since he'd arrived. He looked... different than he remembered. Anders' eyes seemed to swirl in their irises and his face was older; his ginger blonde hair was definitely longer. The boyish strands of hair that had brushed his forehead were now long enough to sit in his ponytail. Anders decided he would cut his hair as he almost missed looking a little younger, like he had completely lost the person he was at Vigil's Keep and The Circle. Finding his small knife strapped inside his boot, he began to cut his hair quite messily. When he was done, only half his hair fit into a ponytail, which he rather liked the look of.

Anders stared at the man in the mirror. He wasn't just a runaway apostate anymore. He was a determined man who was going to get to Kirkwall, no exceptions. He was going to save Karl from whatever it was that caused the nagging feeling in his mind.

Anders turned and packed what little belongings he had left in a dark leather satchel he had purchased. He counted what money he had left and put aside what he owed the tavern for their hospitality. He checked his appearance one last time and swept aside the hair on the floor as best he could. Finally, he placed Karl's letter in the inside pocket of his coat, and put on his black belt. He had bought the belt as an impulse days earlier and it matched his new clothes quite well.

The Tevinter robes still lay folded on the bed. Anders decided to carry them out to the market and sell them. There was no need for him to keep the robes that made him recognisable to both templars and Wardens. Some Tevinter maniac would snap them up soon, he thought. He clipped his satchel to his belt, put the robes under his arm and made his way out of the tavern for what would be the last time.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So, as you can tell, the story isn't exactly going at a lightning pace but I feel it adds more to Anders' character if we get to know him a little first (and his relationship with Karl and why both of them end up in Kirkwall). But, I assure you, next chapter, we shall see the shores of Kirkwall! Thank you to all you lovely readers! Please, leave me a review if you think something isn't working, something is inconsistent or if you just want to give feedback about the quality of writing :)


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